


in perpetuum

by pantheras (rewindmp3)



Series: blood magic [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood, M/M, Magic, blood and magic but no blood magic, i am TELLING YOU that the plot is barely there and incoherent but please read it johnyong are cute, it’s basically a coffee shop au, this fic really isn’t that deep, vague hints of the author’s own existential crises, witch!taeyong and vampire!johnny because who doesn’t love that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rewindmp3/pseuds/pantheras
Summary: johnny seo finds that life and love do not end with death and almost dying
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Series: blood magic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593493
Comments: 29
Kudos: 209
Collections: nct johnny seo and lee taeyong





	in perpetuum

When Taeyong peels back his eyes, gaining consciousness at a too-early time, it is to the uncomfortable sensation of his skin crawling.

He looks down at his skin, at his usually bare arms, and he sees the swirling of black.

He understands, then, what is happening. Truthfully, he understands very little, but he knows the foreboding of magic when it presents itself so readily to him.

The more he comes to, the more he is aware of the magic’s excitement. It stems from the top notch of his spine, from the black, inky insignia etched permanently into his skin that marks his coming of age as a witch. He can feel the way the magic has made the ink explode in rivulets all over his body, decorating the rest of his otherwise unmarked skin in the process.

Magic has not been this excited since Ten burst into his life, his best friend now, and all of the color that came with him.

There are some witches Taeyong knows who play with magic like it is a toy, who treat magic like it is a mere tool to be twisted and mangled into some egotistical, self-serving purpose. He has never been one of those witches. Magic, for him, has always been something to listen to. It is not his to bend to his will, unless it tells him it’s okay. Magic cannot speak to everyone, so he does his best to be its conduit.

He is kind to magic, so, in turn, it is kind to him. It tries to warn him of things to come, of when his life might be mangled and put back together again from the inside out. It’s bad, sometimes. Most times. But then again, there was Ten.

He listens to the magic, acknowledges it. Shifts under his covers so less of his crawling skin has to carry his weight while he rests.

Perhaps this is a reckoning. Perhaps this is a gift. All he can do is be ready, but that’s never really enough.

Taeyong closes his eyes, falls back asleep.

Somewhere, for the first time in a very long time, Johnny Seo wakes.

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

Taeyong hates coffee. It’s too bitter and acidic for him, who has a penchant for sweets and cream, and it makes his heart race.

Taeyong hates coffee, but he loves helping people, so on most days, when there isn’t some supernatural being banging on his door at some unholy hour (even though he has a doorbell), needing to be fixed and healed, he finds himself working as a barista.

The line between the magical and non-magical worlds is blurred. The more observant, curious humans might notice the tingle of magic in their day to day lives, might question the flash of (to them) unnaturally colored eyes, or too-sharp teeth, or too-long life. But, Taeyong has noticed, most things humans do not understand become buried. They like to forget about it, to label it a trick of the eye before moving on. Taeyong can’t exactly blame them, when he barely understands it himself.

It’s not like they try to hide. Or, at least, Taeyong doesn’t. Magic is how he helps people, in his little coffee shop.

When people walk in, they’ll order things like a red eye, or a dirty chai, or a triple shot, and they’ll think that’s what they need. They think a little caffeine, a little extra energy, is what will help them get through the day. And sometimes, it _is_ what they need. Sometimes, they’re a college student who’s just pulled a near all-nighter, but they’re genuinely passionate about what they’re learning, and they’re happy. Sometimes, they’re a loved one, getting a little pick-me-up for someone who wants it, and they’re happy. Sometimes, they’re just a person who really loves coffee, and they’re happy.

But usually, they’re bankers in stiff suits who hate their jobs but love their families and don’t know how else to contribute a steady income, and they’re miserable. Usually, they’re students who feel lost and confused, who don’t know if they’re studying what they are because they actually like it or because they’re vaguely good at it or because their parents and peers have forced them into a corner, labeled and fate predetermined, and they’re miserable. Usually, they’re just a person who feels the weight of living and they can’t pinpoint the cause of the exhaustion they feel, and they’re miserable.

It’s so sad, Taeyong thinks, all of these miserable humans all the time. They haven’t lived long enough to fully grasp the fact that misery is temporary, that it loves company and it loves humans best.

This is how Taeyong helps: a soft incantation for good luck, whispered as the espresso shots brew or the almond milk gets frothed; a breath of direction as he blows gently on the mug of coffee with a warning of, “Careful, it’s hot!”; a drizzle of hope as he sweetens the bitterness with syrup; a little break as he cools the burning hot drinks with ice and has a short conversation with his customers as they wait.

The magic tells him what to do, most days. It understands these humans better than he does, knows what they need, tells Taeyong how to lift their spirits.

They thank him in polite smiles and patronage and in the way they seem to have made themselves a little bit happier every time they come in.

One time, it was Ten.

Magic had been excited that day, so excited that it buzzed through Taeyong’s veins and skin. _Something’s coming_, it had told him, and Taeyong had been terribly on edge because the last time something like this happened, it was decades ago and Jaehyun had collapsed onto his doorstep, newly turned and nearly deranged because his maker had been taken from him by the other vampires they were fighting.

Jaehyun’s day, Taeyong had been dragged into a war, a bloodbath. Jaehyun was his little human, a regular at his coffee shop who Taeyong favored because his dimples seemed to deepen with every visit. His little human, no longer human, who had stumbled into a world he wasn’t ready for because he was best friends with his maker, who was waging a war he thought was useless but powerless to stop, and Jaehyun would do anything for the people he loves. He was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, dead for a few heartbeats before his best friend could bear the thought no longer and turned him.

Mother nature, usually as passive as can be, was frenzied that night when the bloodshed was at its worst. After Taeyong had mended Jaehyun the best he could, they braced their way through her fierce winds and wretched claps of thunder and lightning, into a sea of blood mother nature was trying her best to dilute with the pouring rain.

Taeyong remembers it being terrible, the worst night of his life. Jaehyun had brought Taeyong to the thick of battle, and magic had brought Taeyong to where the other vampires had hidden his maker’s body, maimed so badly Taeyong could feel bile rising in his throat before he tamped it down. Magic had told him that night that this vampire did not deserve to die yet, even though he was already undead. It guided him as he pieced together the skin as well as he could, cleaned the wounds, plucked the nearly severed soul from the air and jammed it back into the vampire’s broken body. It told Taeyong to put him in to sleep, to let him heal, so that’s what Taeyong did before Jaehyun thanked him and whisked his maker away.

When the magic knew Jaehyun and his maker were safe, it turned. Magic, to Taeyong, is usually warm, comforting. It can be petty and a little temperamental at times, but its intention has always been pure.

Jaehyun’s day, magic had been _furious_. Taeyong was its only conduit and he had been consumed with all of magic’s rage at the vampires who were needlessly tearing themselves apart. Magic unleashed its fury through Taeyong, who made flames erupt from the ground and consume and consume and consume everyone and everything on the battlefield that night, despite the way mother nature cried.

It had Taeyong weave together curses, too, dark magic he had not felt in so long it terrified him. These were not the edifying curses that Taeyong hated to give but learned to accept. Magic was too angry to teach lessons. These curses were aimed to kill, and Taeyong had never felt magic be as icy as this, amidst its own inferno.

When it was all over, Taeyong was the only being left standing. That, too, was short lived as he fell forward onto the earth in fatigue. Mother nature was still crying.

So it is understandable, then, why Taeyong would be so apprehensive about the way black ink wound itself around his body.

Ten’s day, magic had guided this fae boy to Taeyong’s coffee shop, and he had needed just a little bit of everything.

Taeyong was surprised, at first, because magic usually directs the supernatural to Taeyong’s home and lets the humans stumble into his coffee shop for their fixes.

Ten’s problem, though, had been a little bit more human. A fae prince, who was heartbroken because politics wouldn’t let him be with the boy he loved, who felt like his parents and his people hated him for his too-kind heart, who fled home when he found Kun’s lifeless body in a bed of his favorite flowers? He didn’t need to be sent on his merry way after herbs or stitches or a spell. He needed something much more human.

He needed a friend.

As it turns out, magic knew that Taeyong needed one, too.

Ten’s day, Taeyong hadn’t understood why the magic was so excited. There was a fae boy who needed his help in the same way that humans did, rather than the way supernaturals usually did, so Taeyong would help him. He didn’t understand what the fuss was about, when nothing Jaehyun’s-day-earth-shattering had happened immediately after the black ink decorated his body.

But the magic knew it found the best in Ten, whose heartbreak showed Taeyong only how much he was capable of love, rather than the weakness Ten seemed to think it manifested.

As much as Taeyong helped Ten with every fresh cup of coffee (a dash of comfort here, a sprinkle of optimism there), Ten helped Taeyong as well. Taeyong hadn’t realized how deeply the loneliness had settled into his bones, so omnipresent that, most days, it felt like it wasn’t there. He thought he was beyond such a human emotion, for he knew how much he was helping his customers, both human and not, and he thought that was enough. The magic knew, of course. It knew of the way Taeyong sometimes wished for company, the way he wished he had someone to talk to when he wasn’t working, the way he wished people would stay.

So, the magic found Taeyong Ten, who declared, after a mere two weeks, that he and Taeyong would be friends forever.

And Taeyong smiled, and the magic smiled, because Ten was fae and fae could not lie.

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

The morning after the magic’s foreboding had woken him up in the middle of the night was deceptively calm.

Its excitement had waned, merely a light buzzing now, at the topmost notch of Taeyong’s spine. The black that was licking its way across Taeyong’s body the night prior had receded back into its insignia, his lotus flower.

Ten was still sleeping soundly by the time Taeyong left his apartment. They each have their own places, but they may as well not with how often Ten is over. Taeyong would leave more, if he were less concerned for the well-being of some supernatural life that may or may not show up at his doorstep. It was always better to be prepared.

The morning rush leaves Taeyong exhausted. It’s not just the influx of people, but the fact that most of them need a little extra something with their coffee, too. Taeyong anticipates this, because it’s a Monday, and he doesn’t mind the drain of his energy so early in the morning. He has the mid-morning, pre-lunch lull to recuperate.

Lunch comes, then school ends, then after school clubs and sports end, then the workday ends, and Taeyong’s _tired_, but he’s happy to help. The magic has not stopped its incessant buzzing since last night, lest Taeyong forget that something might happen to him today.

It’s well past dinner and Taeyong’s a little over an hour away from closing up the coffee shop for the day when Ten barges in.

There’s a man with Ten and when Taeyong registers exactly who it is that Ten is manhandling, his eyes widen in shock.

Ten brought Jaehyun back with him.

They don’t know each other. Or, at least, Taeyong is fairly certain they don’t know each other, what with the way Ten is dragging Jaehyun into the shop by the collar of his shirt, looking livid.

“Jaehyun?” Taeyong asks, just to be sure. His heart is hammering and, yes, he’s happy to see Jaehyun after all these years, but maybe, just maybe, he’s scared that he’ll be dragged into something almost apocalyptic again.

“So you do know each other,” Ten sniffs before releasing his hold.

Jaehyun straightens himself out and smooths down the crinkles of his shirt.

“Taeyong,” he answers. He looks exactly the same as the last time Taeyong saw him. There is no need for him to hide his fangs and bright, red eyes amongst a fae and a witch, so he doesn’t. “Long time no see,” he smiles. Jaehyun’s dimples are still as deep as ever and his face is full of warmth.

The warmth disappears when Ten snaps, “I found him outside your apartment and I wasn’t about to let him in.”

“I told you I needed to tell Taeyong something!” Jaehyun responds, voice clipped.

Magic has never brought someone to Taeyong’s door when he wasn’t there. There’s no other explanation, though, for how Jaehyun found his home when the last time they occupied the same space was decades ago, halfway around the world in America, in Chicago.

_Listen to Jaehyun_, the magic whispers, _this is important_.

So, despite the unease, Taeyong finds himself saying, “Tennie, it’s quite alright. Let me hear what Jaehyun has to say, hm?”

With another dramatic huff, Ten deposits himself onto the nearest chair.

Jaehyun turns to face Taeyong again, the smile back on his face.

“My maker,” he begins, “the one you saved a lifetime ago. He’s woken up.”

_Congratulations?_ Taeyong wants to say. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to react. Jaehyun was right when he said it was a lifetime ago. Taeyong has been so busy since—magic has had so much for him to do—he feels guilty that the man he saved had rarely crossed his mind, if ever, after the first few months post-Jaehyun’s-day.

Instead, he says, “I’m glad. It’s been a while.”

Jaehyun’s tittering around like a hummingbird right now, but he looks so excited that Taeyong doesn’t have the heart to tell him that just looking at Jaehyun is making him dizzy.

“Right? Our whole coven thought that he wouldn’t wake up ever again. Those fuckers really got him good, but you….” Jaehyun trails off, eyes glistening. “You saved him. He’s conscious now and everything is intact! His memories, his abilities, even his muscles didn’t atrophy. I don’t know what you did that night, but you saved my best friend. I am forever indebted to you.”

“Careful now,” Ten warns. His voice twinkles with something mischievous, something Taeyong recognizes as distinctly and dangerously fae. He rolls his eyes. “Do not make a promise to magic that you cannot keep.”

“Tennie-”

“Oh, but I would keep this promise,” Jaehyun says. His voice is emphatic and the strength of its conviction surprises Taeyong. Certainly he does not deserve this? “In fact, my whole coven would. We owe you a great debt, Taeyong, for saving my maker.”

“It is what magic wanted,” Taeyong sputters a little in protest. “I am merely her agent, I do not, I could not possibly-”

“Who exactly was it that Taeyong saved that night?” Ten interrupts, his eyebrows quirked in interest and in question.

“Seo Youngho,” Jaehyun answers. “Our king.”

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

There is not much else that happens the night Jaehyun is reintroduced into his life.

He learns how it is that the coven uprooted itself from Chicago to Seoul, how Jaehyun himself has become a maker, how life that is not his own moves with time.

Ten asks Jaehyun once if he is not perhaps in love with this Youngho and Jaehyun looks so revolted by the inquiry that Taeyong nearly chokes on his smoothie.

“Absolutely not!” was the vehement refusal. “He’s like my older brother! That would be…. I don’t even want to think about it.”

Taeyong had laughed at the reaction and at the way Jaehyun’s response seemed to make Ten feel better, whether or not Jaehyun himself was aware, and had marveled, again, at the fact that magic really did seem to know all.

Jaehyun does not become a regular in the human sense of the word, does not come as often as he once did. But he does come, bearing updates about his life and his coven and his maker, and Taeyong refuses every offer he makes to meet the coven. Jaehyun insists every time, pleads and tells Taeyong how much gratitude and preferential treatment he would receive if only he would just visit. Perhaps Jaehyun should know by now that that kind of reception is exactly what Taeyong does not want. He does not need to be lauded as a hero and it would make him unfathomably uncomfortable to be acted towards in that manner for simply doing what magic had asked of him.

So, he spends his days as he always has, in between his home and his coffee shop.

Taeyong is leafing through the pages of a long forgotten grimoire when he hears the door open with a gush of wind. Magic does not tell him that it is urgent, so he glamours his grimoire into something more human and continues to read as the customer peruses the menu.

“Can I get an iced americano?” A decision has been made.

Taeyong looks up. His customer is handsome, yes, strikingly so, but that does not surprise Taeyong given what he is. What surprises Taeyong more is that magic brought a vampire to his coffee shop. What surprises Taeyong more is that magic is silent now, silent in a way it was not when it brought Ten to him.

The vampire seems happy. He seems content. Taeyong does not know why magic brought him here.

Taeyong’s eyes flick around his café. Nobody appears to be paying them any attention, too busy talking with each other or burying their heads in their work.

He finds it safe to ask, “That won’t upset your stomach?”

The vampire smiles, “Not at all. I fed earlier. Thank you for your concern.”

Taeyong brushes off the thanks with a shrug. It’s what he does, what he’s always done: provide care in a world that doesn’t.

He turns to begin brewing the espresso shots. From behind him, he hears his customer’s voice call out, “Will you not ask for my name?”

“You are the only one ordering right now. There is no rush of people to confuse you with.” The shots finish brewing and he pours them into a cup filled with ice. When he turns back towards his customer, he comes face to face with a small pout. It’s quite endearing, Taeyong allows himself to admit.

“But if you would like to give me your name, I would not mind to hear it,” Taeyong acquiesces, infinitely amused.

“I’m Johnny,” the vampire says, beaming. Taeyong fills the rest of the cup with water, pops the cap on, passes it over to Johnny with a straw.

“Well then, Johnny. I’m pleased to meet your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” Johnny answers. The grin does not leave his face as he adjusts the drink to his liking, as he walks out of the door and waves goodbye quickly.

_Strange_, Taeyong thinks to himself. _Very strange_.

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

What’s strange is that this vampire, Johnny, becomes a regular, even in the human sense of the word.

He comes into Taeyong’s coffee shop at least twice a week, never with the same order back to back, and never with an accompanying instruction from magic about what exactly it is that he needs.

Taeyong is not so far from human sentiment that he does not feel his own emotions or make his own deductions when magic is silent.

The first few times Johnny comes in, he does nothing but order his drink and wave goodbye. Taeyong is not dense enough or cruel enough to let the lingering gaze or the hesitation to leave go unnoticed.

So, the next time he comes in, Taeyong talks to him.

They exchange pleasantries at first. What else do you say to a barista who has other customers to take care of? What else do you say to someone who’s supposed to be just a customer?

Perhaps it is the ease with which Johnny conducts himself that makes Taeyong comfortable, too, but they soon move onto deeper, more personal things.

Taeyong tells Johnny about his life, about how he helps people with coffee and with spells and with late-night, early-morning knocks on his door. He tells Johnny about magic and about Ten and about how he thinks he’s happy, but some days, even with Ten here now, he’s not so sure. He tells Johnny how he can’t imagine doing anything else because this, helping people, is all he’s ever known and all he’s ever wanted to do.

Taeyong learns that Johnny has been alive for a while, has seen and taken part in as many wars as he ever wants to, has not experienced quite as many highs as he would like to. Taeyong learns that Johnny has had a long rest, a period of isolation and reclusion, and is only now reacclimating himself to the world. Taeyong learns that Johnny hated who he _thought_ he was at first, a bloodsucking beast, before his coven helped him regain the human parts of himself, despite the diet. Taeyong learns that Johnny cherishes his coven—and, particularly, his best friend—more than anything else in his life, and that the compassion held in this one man alone is probably enough to sustain a nation of the humans who villainize him.

Days become weeks and weeks become months. They speak a lot about gratitude.

The memory of this last time plays itself in a loop in Taeyong’s brain for the better part of three days. He’s not sure why.

It starts with Johnny asking Taeyong why he does not pursue bigger things, grander things, why he does not leave the small bubble of his coffee shop to spread joy in other ways.

“You could be one of those flashy idols,” Johnny suggests, half-jokingly. “I’m sure you’d have millions of people falling at your feet. You said one time that you wrote poetry. I’m sure those could be turned into songs. I’m sure magic would let you.”

Taeyong bursts out laughing and he doesn’t stop until he has to wipe tears from his eyes. When he’s calmed down a bit, Johnny’s grinning, too, but there’s something heavier in his eyes, something serious. Something that tells Taeyong he’s expecting an answer, despite how outlandish his proposal was.

“Sure, I could be an idol,” Taeyong answers easily, “but I’m grateful for what I have. I’m grateful for what magic has given me and for the way it chose me to be its conduit. I’m not sure I could handle something that feels so… impersonal at times. So restricting, too. Plus, the public picks apart so many little things about these humans they like to put under the spotlight, I’m sure they would notice an unaging witch, singing and dancing on tv.”

Taeyong chuckles again, unbidden. The image in his mind is so funny.

“I just think you deserve more,” Johnny whispers. His voice is so soft, like he’s sharing a secret. Or maybe he’s afraid that if he speaks any louder, he’ll offend the magic that swirls around them. His tone is uncharacteristically sober, uncharacteristically grave as he continues, “You help so many people. You do so much, and you ask for nothing, _nothing_, in return. You are grateful to magic, but how many people do you think should be grateful for you? How many people do you think have no way to repay you, but desperately, desperately want to?”

“Johnny, I-”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Johnny interrupts, laughing weakly and insincerely. “You’re going to say that magic gave you the ability to help people, that you should not be shown gratitude because it is not _you_ these people should be grateful for. But, Taeyong,” Johnny’s eyes are so _genuine_ as they bore past Taeyong’s, right into this unnamable tangle of _something_ sitting heavily in his chest that makes him feel breathless, “you don’t seem to realize that even without magic, you have your own special abilities: empathy, compassion, a never-ending reservoir of understanding even if it is not deserved. You are a _good person_, Taeyong, unadulterated good to your very core. And it was not magic that made you so. I hope you can see that about yourself soon.”

Taeyong sits there in silence, stunned. Johnny is right. That is exactly what Taeyong was going to say, that everything he does and everything he can do is because magic has favored him and blessed him with what gifts he has. He is sure he is missing something, somewhere, between the time he first met Johnny and this current moment, where Johnny has seemed to share his soul, but he isn’t sure what. He isn’t sure why it is that Johnny’s smiling at him so sadly, either. He thinks he must’ve done a pretty rotten job of whatever he’s meant to do, if he hasn’t been able to make Johnny happy.

“I should probably get going,” Johnny breaks the quiet. “I have some coven matters to attend to. I’ll see you soon, Taeyong.”

With another sad smile, Johnny leaves and Taeyong is still confused.

What Taeyong doesn’t know is that the magic is smiling sadly, too.

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

The next time Jaehyun comes into the coffee shop, Johnny’s words are still playing in the back of Taeyong’s mind.

Jaehyun’s tales these past few visits have been primarily of the best friend, the vampire king, coming back into his own. Vampire lives are not so short that the coven would forget the grace of the king they loved so dearly, even though he has been asleep for decades, but still, Youngho feels the need to prove himself all over again.

Jaehyun tells Taeyong of how he wishes he could help his friend feel less out of place in his own home and Taeyong does not need magic to know that Jaehyun needs reassurance.

Taeyong tells Jaehyun that all he needs to do is to be there for Youngho, for his friend. It is one thing to have the abilities to be powerful, but another thing entirely to have the people to make that power something benevolent. Power, in a person without compassion, without friends, can be something very, very dangerous.

Taeyong tries to tell Jaehyun that a re-familiarization will take time and that Jaehyun should feel no guilt over it taking any longer, so long as he is doing his best. Ten tells Jaehyun the same things, and maybe it holds more weight because Ten cannot say anything he does not believe to be true, but Taeyong thinks it might be something else, something better.

The next time Jaehyun comes into the coffee shop, he once again implores Taeyong to visit the coven.

Taeyong thinks of Youngho and wonders if his discomfort with his consciousness is the fact that he has gratitude that cannot be placed and he thinks of Johnny and his words and, for once, he hesitates to decline.

Jaehyun notices this hesitation, of course he does, so he pounces. Within minutes, he has Taeyong agreeing to visit and the next day, after Taeyong has closed the coffee shop, he finds a car waiting for him outside.

The head that Jaehyun pokes out of the window, calling for Taeyong to come inside, is quite comical. He looks like a puppy, in all his dimpled eagerness.

Once inside, he sees that Jaehyun is in a suit. He pouts, “You didn’t tell me that I should be dressed up! I’m just in jeans and a jacket! That’s not fair!”

“The whole coven is dressed up, just for you,” Jaehyun teases. “Don’t worry about it. You look great! You always do! Plus, you’re our esteemed guest of the night. I’m sure Youngho would have the head of anyone who would dare say anything bad about you, or how you’re dressed.”

Taeyong’s still not quite satisfied, knowing he’ll stick out more than he already would have as a witch in a vampire’s coven, but it’s not like he can make Jaehyun turn the car around just so he can change. That would be rude.

Easy conversation and mindless banter fill the car ride, and before Taeyong realizes, they’re already at the manor.

The car deposits them right at the front doors, and when Jaehyun swings them open, Taeyong can see that this visit will be nothing short of pomp and circumstance.

Jaehyun wasn’t lying when he said the whole coven would be dressed up. Every vampire looks impeccable, and they’re all lined up, on either side of the main hallway, awaiting Taeyong’s arrival. When the doors open, they all turn to stare at him, too, which is more than he can really handle. He blushes crimson and hopes that they’ve all fed.

Jaehyun leads Taeyong through the middle of the two lines of vampires, who start clapping as soon as he steps inside and, “_Seriously_, this is ridiculous! This is exactly why I didn’t want to come!” he hisses at Jaehyun.

“This is already better than it could’ve been,” Jaehyun mutters back. “Youngho wanted to have a red carpet, but I told him if you saw something like that, you’d bolt out the door and never come back.”

What Taeyong doesn’t tell Jaehyun is that he _already_ wants to bolt out the door and never come back. The only thing preventing him from doing so is the firm hand at his back and the weight of social obligation.

They reach the foot of the stairs before Jaehyun stops them. He gestures for Taeyong to look up, then steps to the side, falling in line with the vampires already there.

There is a man, a strikingly handsome man, waiting at the top of the staircase. He stands stick straight, posture impeccable. His hair is styled easily, formal but still floppy and looks as if it’s soft to touch. He’s wearing a purple velvet suit that looks (probably was) tailor made for him. Somewhere, dimly, in the back of his mind, Taeyong recalls that purple is a color that signifies royalty. So that’s who this strikingly handsome man is, who is all too familiar.

He is smiling but nervous as Taeyong meets his eyes. Taeyong laughs, “Hello, Johnny.”

His body seems to sag in relief, hearing the mirth in Taeyong’s voice. “You are not mad?” Johnny asks, trepidation leaking into his question, “You aren’t furious that I hid who I was from you?”

“Perhaps—if I did not know myself as well as I do—perhaps, then, I would be mad. But, knowing who I am, I fear I may have given you no choice.”

Johnny laughs as well.

Seeing him there, at the top of the staircase, Taeyong finally understands what Johnny needed, every day he came into the coffee shop: Johnny needed to thank Taeyong, in every ostentatious way he knew how, for saving his life. But Taeyong would not let him.

As Johnny descends the stairs to meet him, Taeyong muses that Johnny has already paid his debt with his company and his presence in Taeyong’s life.

“Let me show you around,” Johnny says as he slips his arm in the crook of Taeyong’s elbow.

And Taeyong lets him.

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

Taeyong does not think that the next time he sees Johnny, Johnny will be drenched in blood.

But that is exactly what happens.

There is a loud pounding at his door that rouses Taeyong from his sleep.

At first, he thinks he has hallucinated it, or dreamed it, and is about to close his eyes again when the knocking comes back, louder, more intense, and accompanied by a voice that makes Taeyong’s blood run cold.

“Taeyong! Taeyong, please!” Jaehyun is shouting as Taeyong rips the covers off of his body and sprints out of bed.

“Oh my god,” Taeyong breathes when he flings the door open. “Oh my _god_.”

Jaehyun and Johnny are covered in blood. It mats their hair, stains their clothes, mars their otherwise alabaster skin. Johnny’s entire body weight looks like it’s being propped up by Jaehyun’s willpower alone, until he pitches forward and Taeyong catches him in his arms. He hoists Johnny up so he can fit his shoulders under Johnny’s arm, with Jaehyun on the other side. They drag him in, close the door, lock it tight.

Taeyong brings them to his bathroom and motions for Jaehyun to help maneuver Johnny so that he sits in the tub.

“What _happened_?” Taeyong ventures to ask as he turns the shower head on. The water soon turns red, bypassing pink entirely.

Jaehyun’s face twists unpleasantly.

“An assassination attempt,” he grits out. He runs his fingers through his hair and they come back streaked with blood. So much blood. “It wasn’t even supposed to _be_ an assassination attempt.” He’s pacing now. Again, Taeyong doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s making him a little dizzy, in addition to the metallic tang in the air from which he cannot escape. “We had almost taken care of the last of the people who tried to wipe us out the first time I came knocking on your door, asking you to save his life, and it was all supposed to end tonight. Youngho wasn’t even supposed to _be there_, but he was and it, I don’t know, made them go into something almost as crazed as a blood frenzy and there were too many of them, too many unhinged, batshit fucking crazy vampires, and I couldn’t protect him, _again_. I’m so fucking useless, I can’t-”

Taeyong turns the water off just as Jaehyun breaks out into a sob.

“Jaehyun, hey,” he says as soothingly as he can manage when he feels like he’s about to go insane. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. Johnny knows how much you love him. Everyone who knows you knows that you wouldn’t have let this happen to him if you knew how to stop it.”

Jaehyun nods, but Taeyong knows he hasn’t internalized a word of what he’s just said. He wants to help Jaehyun more, truly, he does, but he can’t ignore Johnny lying in his bathtub, despondent in a pool of blood-water. He does the second best thing he can think of for Jaehyun: he sends him to Ten’s, just a few streets away. Jaehyun tries to go back, back into the fray and the fighting, but before he can stop himself, Taeyong blurts out, “No!” and magic tells him that he was right to do so.

“Taeyong, please, you have to save him,” Jaehyun pleads at his doorstep. “We were on the other side of the city, but he only wanted you. He was inconsolable until I agreed to take him here, so, please, please, save him.”

The devastation stamped so clearly Jaehyun’s eyes forces itself into Taeyong. He has never felt brittle before, but with this pressure and this misery, he thinks he might shatter.

“The only thing I can promise you, Jaehyun, is that I’ll do my very best,” Taeyong answers, throat tight.

Jaehyun leaves with one last nod and a hug and then Taeyong is darting back to his bathroom, back to Johnny.

“Johnny,” Taeyong calls out. He cradles Johnny’s face in the palms of his hands, feels the magic concentrating itself in his body. “Johnny, please, I need you to stay with me. Can you open your eyes for me? Hm?”

Johnny’s eyes flutter open. Despite it all, he smiles. He lifts his hand to grasp at Taeyong’s wrist as Taeyong desperately thinks of all the healing spells he knows, helplessly calls out to the magic he knows is there to guide him in what to do.

“Taeyongie,” Johnny murmurs. Taeyong can feel the magic building in his body pouring itself into Johnny’s, but he has to give it direction. It is there, it is his to mold, but for the life of him, he can’t fucking think straight in his panic. This was so much easier, the first time, when he didn’t know whose life was on the line.

“My Taeyongie,” Johnny murmurs again, as he thumbs away a tear that has managed to slip.

Taeyong checks for broken bones and mends them; checks for poison and tries to draw it out; checks for open wounds and sews them back together again, but his hands are shaking and his breaths are uneven and he can’t stop fucking crying and he just has to save Johnny. Johnny does not deserve to die. He knows this, magic knows this, and he hopes his conviction is enough to save the man whose undead life is in his hands.

He does not see the way Johnny looks at him, then, too urgently wrapped up in his own mind. He does not see how Johnny does not care if he lives or if he dies if the last sight of his life is Lee Taeyong.

“I am in love with you,” Johnny gasps. Blood is trickling down his chin, staining his teeth red. Taeyong’s heart is in his throat, magic at the tips of his fingers, hoping, praying, working.

“Johnny, your energy,” Taeyong worries, “please stop talking, please. You need to conserve your energy.”

“No, Taeyong, you need to understand-”

“Johnny, you’re losing blood that _you don’t have_ and you’re delirious, please just-”

Taeyong’s ears are ringing. He can barely see past the film of tears covering his eyes, can barely think past the haze of _please, god, please let Johnny be okay, he has to be okay, I have to be able to help him, magic, please, help him_.

“I am lucid enough for this!” Johnny exclaims.

His voice cuts through the fog, just barely. The magic is telling Taeyong what he needs to do. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to risk it, not after the last time, especially not now, after knowing Johnny for who he is, not now, after Taeyong doesn’t think he’ll be able to live without the man sprawled out in his tub.

“Taeyong, I am in love with you,” Johnny says. “Irrevocably.” His eyes flutter shut. _If you don’t do this, you won’t be able to save him!_ the magic screams. Taeyong chokes back a sob.

“If you love me,” Taeyong whispers through tears, “you’ll come back to me.”

And, just like all those years ago, he puts Johnny Seo to sleep.

╳ ╳ ╳ ╳ ╳

It doesn’t take nearly as long this time, for Johnny to wake.

Taeyong knows that he is a meager witch. His emotions and his mood could not possibly affect the way the magic feels, or the way mother nature feels, but he finds that all of his worry and all of his sorrow is being reflected in the weather.

It has been storming, in his heart, for days. Not even the presences of Ten and Jaehyun, who have all but moved themselves in, is enough to ease the anxiety eating away at his brain.

At least the problem has been dealt with. The coven no longer has to worry. Jaehyun has convinced them not to come to Taeyong’s door, asking how Johnny is, and for that Taeyong is grateful. He sits vigil by Johnny’s bedside (_his_ bedside) and weaves healing magic through Johnny’s body every minute that he can stand to.

The magic tells him that Johnny is getting better. It soothes him, assures him that it won’t be like the last time, when Jaehyun had to take Johnny away and Taeyong could not help them any longer. A week or two go by and the magic tells him, _soon_.

When this happens, outside, the thunder and lightning come to a halt and the rain peters out to a comforting drizzle. Taeyong has hope because magic has concealed things from him before, sure, but it has never lied. Taeyong has hope because he knows Johnny, too, would never lie to him.

When Johnny wakes up the second time, the magic does nothing to warn him. It thinks it will be funny to see Taeyong’s shock, and perhaps it will be all the more rewarding. Good surprises are the best surprises.

Taeyong has a cup of calming tea between his hands. Ten and Jaehyun are sitting on opposite ends of the same couch, their legs tangled in the middle under a blanket. Johnny walks out of the bedroom, finally well enough to stand on his own two feet.

Just like last time, Taeyong and his magic have preserved everything. Including, it seems, Johnny’s penchant for mischief. Taeyong’s back is to him as he walks out of the bedroom, but Ten’s and Jaehyun’s are not, so he motions at them to keep quiet as he treads silently towards his love.

Johnny quickly wraps his arms around Taeyong’s body in a back hug and smacks a kiss on Taeyong’s cheek.

Taeyong nearly drops his burning tea on himself and Johnny revels in the way Taeyong’s heart races before he giggles at Taeyong’s expense.

“Supernatural royalty need to stop fucking finding me,” Taeyong mutters darkly under his breath. The darkness is a façade, everyone knows. Taeyong is nothing but light and it beams from him, knowing that Johnny is well.

Ten merely bursts out laughing, and Jaehyun at least has the presence of mind to look a little bit guilty for not warning Taeyong, but he’s grinning, too, and not at all apologetic.

Johnny leans his cheek against Taeyong’s hair.

“You act like magic would not make you a king, if she cared for things as inane as royalty,” he says with a smile.

Taeyong looks at their reflections in the glass of his window. He looks so warm, no, _they_ look so warm. He looks at Johnny—whose eyes are closed and whose lips are quirked up in the smallest, happiest of smiles—and feels something indescribably sweet fill his whole chest, fills it so much that it leaks out of the pores of his body. The magic eats it all up, carefully collects all of Taeyong’s excess in joy, bottles it up, stores it somewhere impossibly safe.

_For a rainy day_, the magic explains. _For a day when you need it, or Johnny needs it, or anyone else in the world needs the happiness you have so diligently earned._

He’s so happy, in this moment. He wonders if this is what his magic feels like for everyone he has ever helped, for everyone he will continue to help. God, he hopes so.

The rain stops. The sun peeks its way out of the clouds. Mother nature calms herself and Taeyong calms himself, in the presence of Johnny and his best friends and magic and, most importantly, this all-encompassing love.

He leaves his mug of tea on the kitchen counter. He turns his body. He buries his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck as he wraps his arms around Johnny’s waist. He tightens his grip and he feels Johnny respond in kind. He feels the rumble of Johnny’s laughter reverberate in his own chest. He’s so happy, he thinks he could write a song.

_The clouds parted and the sun shone, just for us two,_

_and it was in that moment I knew that I loved you._

**Author's Note:**

> my excuse for this…? uhhhh… HER’s photographer saying johnny has “vampire vibes” and taeyong best boy
> 
> i wrote the bulk of this fic in ~3 days, which is quite literally the fastest i have ever written a fic in my whole life. my brain would not shut up about it until it was finished, despite all of the school work i have, so. here she is!
> 
> comments & kudos are always appreciated!! ^.^
> 
>   
[twt](https://twitter.com/maddogmp3) || [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/maddogmp3)


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